


The Beacon

by Gilli_ann



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ennis has a means to call Jack back into his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beacon

**Author's Note:**

> Jack, Ennis and Brokeback Mountain belong to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features. I intend no disrespect and I make no profit

**The beacon**

He woke with a start in the middle of the night, a feeling of deep contentment vying with one of urgent desire. The full moon was shining outside, its light angling through the little window in a broad, pale and perfect beam that grazed the edge of the bed and the white pillow and made a luminous square on the floor. 

The darkness inside held a translucent quality, subtly radiant with reflected moonlight.

Ennis turned over in bed, the old and ever-new surge of happiness welling through him at the sight of the dark tousled head on the pillow right next to his. Jack was sleeping soundly and so close, Ennis could smell him? He would hardly have to move a couple of inches to feel Jack head to toe and to snuffle into his hair, let his mouth trail that stubbly cheek and move on to cover the tempting barely-parted lips. The only one awake here in the night, Ennis felt free, free to study his man, to revel in his presence, to enjoy him with senses opened wide, all his own defenses down. Fierce tenderness filled his heart at the sight of Jack so relaxed and unguarded. 

Finally he could not help himself, he had to let his hand creep slowly onto Jack’s chest to rub there, traveling downwards, simultaneously leaning in to nuzzle an ear and murmur unintelligible words of love and lust. 

Jack opened his eyes in the dark, moonlight glinting distinctly neon in the night-blue depths. He did not hesitate or require any time for the transition from deep sleep to waking alertness, but immediately sought Ennis’s lips, Jack’s soft sigh of pleasure tasting so sweet as it landed on Ennis’s tongue. Ennis was rock hard already, knew he would be welcome, felt it down to his very core, and there he was already - positioned for their old and ever-new glorious union, moving with Jack, moving… 

The air swirled and the bed widened under them, changing to become a wide green pasture, the sun shining above and wild columbine all around, a barely-perceptible sting in the air nipping at their bare skin. 

Jack flopped his arms wide in total abandon, rolling his head back and forth in the grass and moaning with pleasure, letting the force of Ennis’s rhythmic thrusts grind him into leaves and field flowers. The plants were being crushed underneath, sweet scents released and rising up strongly like flashes of light all around them. Intense colors and sounds and smells intermingled and flickered wildly in Ennis’s head, making him dizzy with pure sensational overflow. The rush of air loud in his ears, as if they were flying. Back on Brokeback, back and so close now… so close…

\-----

Ennis woke in the early morning, gratefully noticing the dampness of the wet spot against his skin. It’d been the sheets this night.

He remained still, eyes closed for a moment, stoking the joyful dream, letting it slide back from those elusively hidden depths of departed sleep into his conscious mind. It had been beautiful. The best dreams were always those that took them back to Brokeback.

He opened his eyes slowly. The pillow next to his on the bed remained pristine and untouched. He reached out his hand, letting it stroke the unused pillow reverently. It had fulfilled its purpose. In the cramped little trailer his bed was barely big enough for two grown men, but there were always two pillows – one of them silently ready for Jack Twist, in never-fading memory and in love, but also beckoning him, calling him back to Ennis’s arms on quiet dark nights. 

If you don’t have nothin’ you don’t need nothin’, he had told Junior. But he had lied. He did have something – he had two bloodied shirts, one within the other - and a soft pillow for Jack. A white beacon in the night, showing Jack the way to return into those most cherished of dreams. 

Ennis was used to making do with very little. His heart could manage on this and on memories, everything threadbare now from much use and long handling. 

Once more Ennis’s hand smoothed the white pillow, as gently as he might have stroked Jack’s dark hair had he been sleeping there next to him. Then without a backwards glance he got out of bed to start another day. It was past five o'clock already. 

Wind rattled the trailer door as Ennis opened it to leave. Sad grey clouds trailed chill rain over the land and made him hunch, head down, as he walked to the truck. 

On the sparse bed two pillows remained, side by side and close together, one rumpled and worn, one spotless and smooth, facing another silent day in a trailer on the vast lonely plains.


End file.
